That stench.
Why this disgusting reek had the audacity to waft around the air, no one knew. Not him, not the disgruntled powers above, not the marble pawns back at home, not even the red-headed girl from his memories. Not even the man to his left, as the two of them sat behind a pile of rubble and toppled ruins, awaiting an idea to strike his idiotic brain. The smell slowly permeated the entire perimeter, it bit their exposed skin and filled any ears willing to listen with the treacherous whisper of a corpse's last will - the dead angels' revenge, the devil's demise. A little gray cat sat next to his "officer in charge", dumbfounded and shocked to the very core. Blood was all he could see. Waterfalls of red cascaded from his hands, pouring out from his very own veins, yet foreign and unknown. Golden blood of angels soaked his bleak uniform thoroughly and through - even the mightiest of Mother Nature's showers could not bathe him in as much dirt-water as this massacre did in the blood of his very own brethren. Smoke oozed from the gum-clad barrel of his gun; it cried for more. More ammunition shoved down its throat, more targets set before its eye-lense, more blood splattered all over its steel hide and more soul-candles to snuff out with each trigger pull and controlled ori-explosion. It did not care whether the creature in front was friendly or not. Ally or foe, they were all just meat for the endless grinder, fertilizer for Mother Earth's beautiful garden that was Terra. The kitten would sit and ponder the situation for hours on end, if not for his eager lieutenant, the hetman of chaos and destruction who sat half bent over a corner, hungrily observing the battlefield and waiting for a moment to strike. A moment to join in on the fun and tear a few Laterans apart, maybe crack open a skull or two, anything before his very own existence dissipates into the spirit of war, present all around. Grabbing the boy's arm, W pulled him from that pitiful, endless stream of worries. Andy immediately regained his sense of hearing, and his ears welcomed the orchestra of gunshots and screams with arms wide open. His own rifle would never betray those poor ear-canals of his in such a way. No, Vinny's integral suppressor promised each victim a peaceful and quiet death.
"Lawboy, you there? Woo-hoo, Lawbooooy~?" The feral man whistled and warbled. The gray cat couldn't react, couldn't focus on anything but his own heritage being slowly yet surely ripped away from him with each passing second. W slapped him across the face.
"O-Ow?!" Andy wailed in protest. The burning sensation on his cheek required some thorough rubbing, so his right hand let go of the rifle and got right on it. "What the hell's wr-...?"
"Those two lovebirds are probably far from here by now…" He murmured and pulled on the leather belt weighing across his chest. The grenades all tink'd and clanked like ornaments on a christmas tree. " The rest, too. They're not coming back, that's for damn sure. Freeloading bunch, heh."
Despite the fact that most, if not all, "colleagues" had left them to rot and ran towards the meek glimmer of safety, W didn't seem too phased. He's seen mercs, he's lived with mercs, he's been a merc for Law knows how long. Hell, he'd do the same. Having readjusted the belt to his liking, he turned back towards the boy and let out an excited breath.
"... - C'mon, you're gonna cover me and I'll draw their attention, yeah?" W revealed his grand plan, keeping a wide, toothy grin planted over that stupid mug of his. For the first time in forever, a hint of uncertainty and worry creeped somewhere in between his usual confidence and that unhinged eagerness. Now, though, his eyes clearly displayed something more. A sense of acknowledgment of the genuine danger they were in; maybe even a certain worry - not for himself, tough. Not his, but the boy's safety.
"You wanna rush out onto the field?" Andy asked in disbelief. They barely made it out of the bunker with their heads intact. Taking a mindless jog through no man's land seemed like a sure way to lose one's thoughts forever.
"No, no. I'm not dumb, just crazy. Listen." W grabbed both of the boy's shoulders and brought him very, very close to himself. Andy could count each little notch that stained his horns, each tiny scar and pimple scattered over his cheeks. "... I'm gonna draw them BACK into the bunker."
"W-... What?" A wave of cold rushed down his spine. "No. No, that's suicide."
"Is it?" The king of mercenaries chuckled. "Come on. I rush down the hallway, they follow, it's gonna be a shooting gallery! I won't even have to aim, just stick my gun 'round the corner and shred them to pieces. You gotta put some more trust in me, y'know~?"
"But…" Andy stuck his head out from behind the cover for just a second. Before a Lateran bullet could pierce his skull, his eyes caught the marble-soldiers' positions and counted around twelve of them, surrounding their position. "... There's too many. Look, way too many." He tried to reason, as W only kept shaking his head and digging his fingers deeper into the boy's shoulders. "There's just too many. Logically... Logically speaking, it's... You won't make it. You can't." Desperation took hold, as his arguments turned to tiny, whimper-y pleas. "... Please."
"Andy." The devil spoke. For the very first time in his life, the boy heard his own name sliding from behind the fiend's lips. It was a soft, tender phrase. As if speaking to a young child, explaining why sticking their hand into a working blender is not a good idea, the merc kept going and holding his shoulders. "... Listen to me. There's two of us. S-... How many of them?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve. Two of us, twelve of them. Six heads per merc. C'mon, Andy." He smiled a little. "Even I can do the math. We're fucked."
"..."
No arguing. No yelling, no begging. The least he could do was keep his lips closed, store the inner turmoil somewhere deep and shut up for once. The most? Whisper and plead.
"... W, please."
"No can do." The merc replied with that same smile. Unlike most of his usual grins and smirks, this one was full of warmth. A lifeline amidst the raging sea of worry. A warm blanket on the coldest night. A suicide bomber willing to lit the entire world aflame to keep this gray kitten anchored down to Terra. "You just gotta cover me when I run, mmm? They run-..."
"Please don't do this." Andy cut in, only to be shushed down.
"... They run in after me, I take down as many as I can and pull my 'nades. You take out the rest and book it… Fuck, I dunno where. Somewhere, far away from here, yeah? Forget the bunker, forget the loot, just go."
"B-But…"
"Ey, no "but's". I'm giving you a chance here, alright?" He chuckled. "This is my gift to you, Lawdog. Call it a late birthday surprise."
"..." Andy stared in utter disbelief. He was serious about this. He was genuinely willing to tear the sky apart just so that he got away scot-free. The very same man who'd wake him in the morning with the loud clanking of pans hitting against pans, the man who'd betray even the world itself if it meant a couple shekels landing in his endless pockets. The man he's grown so attached to. "But… Can't we fight? Can't we just…"
"Look, Lawdog." Precisely, he set it simply. "That's your own kind out there. I peek from behind cover, I'm dead before I even think of setting off a bullet, yeah? You peek out, you hit maybe one or two, then the other ten pile up on you like raid-boys on some cheap whore after a long day. We die here, Andy. We die, or I get my sugar rush and send them to hell in that bunker."
"..." Andy sat up. "Just, try to survive, okay?"
"No promises~!" W threw back and got into position, hugging the ruin-wall close. "Now. I run, you shoot. They run down, you ditch. Capiche?"
"... You just want me to leave you?"
"Exactly. I wanna be away from your constant fucking wailing and chirping, Lawie, hehe." He snickered and got that last bit of snark in. "On three."
Andy prepped himself up on a knee. Checked the mag, still had a dozen rounds left, racked the bolt, accidentally emptied the chamber; haphazardly shoved the loose bullet into his jacket and nodded back to W. "... On three."
"Right. One…"
He put up his hand, the first digit curling in anticipation.
"Two…"
The second one went down, making the boy's heart clench in grim acceptance. He wanted to mumble a goodbye or something, but his lips wouldn't open. His vocal cords refused to let his sap out.
"... And before three, I just wanna let you know. If anyone asks, I did this for myself, not you. My own thrill~." W muttered. Of course he wouldn't admit. Wouldn't let his soft, hidden, human side shine through, even in a moment like this. Fucking prick.
"Three." He added after a moment. A moment's all it took to cross the line between life and death. To sentence oneself and take that daring plunge down the cold abyss of whatever awaited beyond. The Law had always preached about great ascensions, the famous "Ascending Forth", as the gun-preachers called it. A belief built on wishful thinking, wishing upon a bright future beyond life itself, when life itself was as bright as could be, for most Laterans. Down went the marble walls, up rose the ebony gravestones with unnamed notches residing amidst their faces, each one a soul once bright and lively. The very last thing he saw was the madman's sly wink. His girlish giggle and the cape, as he ran through the battlefield. How that fabric fluttered. Andy never understood why he'd bring such an object onto the field. It just seemed impractical and quite frankly useless, yet the merc always insisted on dressing up "appropriately", as he called it. So there it was, spreading its mare-ish wings and catching stray lead all over, each bullet piercing its soft, mud-covered surface. Andy couldn't even hear the guns rattling. No yells, no screams, no explosions, nothing. Only that cape flowing through the air, pierced by hundreds upon hundreds of lead bolts, arts and daggers. And that giggle. That grim, heart-wrenching giggle.
"..."
W was dead.
"..."
Yet, he could almost hear his voice.
"..."
Through the chaos of war, the tides crashing against his temples.
"..."
He could hear him laughing.
"..."
Giggling.
"..."
Yelling.
"..."
Yelling? Yelling… But what? What could he be yelling about? Was the temperature in hell too hot? Did he want him to turn the thermostat down?
"..."
No. No, that wasn't it. He was dead. Dead men tell no tales, they don't ask the living to help them cool down.
"..."
Yet, the voice remained? What was it?
The cape flew close. Too close. A hand gripped his arms.
And his voice spoke. Loud and clear.
"GET 'EM, LAWDOG!"
Andy broke from his memory-induced trance and fell back onto Terra. Flying all around, piercing the dark, the night, the calm and his skin was a hail of steel and bright lights. Drops of sweat slid down his forehead, blood heated up to a boiling point, as the fiend who dared call herself the "new W" gripped the boy's shoulders tightly and shoved him into an upcoming group of vultures. The masked assailants yelped in confusion and bent under the poor angel's weight. Before either could stand, the reaper's cape flew over his head and sent down two lead-tipped projectiles into their faces. Andy felt their last breaths escaping through the masks' filters, as glass shattered and blood splattered all around. "W" was already over him, already aiming the boy's beloved Nuffer towards a few snipers nestled in the ruins above, as a steel-clawed bird closed in on her position. Without thinking much, he racked Vinny's bolt once more and accidentally ejected the bullet from its chamber. That's one less, doesn't matter.
They signed up for it. Late at night, all systems went, they've come to see the show. So a show they did get.
They did their best, Andy did the rest, flopped over his shoulder and ripped a bullet through the bladed vulture's spine. Another few joined "W's" messy suppressing barrage, and the bird went down. Spiraled into the earth, became fodder for the worms. How ironic.
W shot and shot, fired off bullet after bullet, yet her aim remained questionable at best. Andy threw himself off the ground in the face of a few crossbow-bolts eagerly willing to turn his back into a porcupine. Slamming his entire weight onto the girl, he pulled her aside, and shoved behind a couple toppled pillars, courtesy of the grand battle that took place in this exact spot, say, a year or two hundred ago. There was that feeling, deep inside, the feeling that drove him mad. A new kind of feeling, eager to rip apart his skull and send two, very heavy objects protruding from both sides of his head. He shook it off and pressed his back against the wall. "W" did the same, grinning from ear to ear. She ejected the pistol's magazine and let it splatter against the mud. The heavens above wailed in pity and disgust at the sight.
"You're still alive?" She pulled a quizzical look and let out an excited whimper. "Tch. Be useful, throw me a mag. Running on fumes here"
Fiddling with his own rifle, Andy paid her little to no attention. Now was the time to reload and pray, though praying might've been less than useless, given his divine link's deplorable condition. Tchk-tch, the old magazine was brutally pulled from its home, a new one thrown in its place. With a nice bolt-racking, he was ready to keep firing, yet the vultures had different plans. W clicked her tongue and reached over to entangle her hands round the boy's neck, wring it out like a dishrag, but a masked intruder peeked from behind their pillar's corner, testing the safe haven's credibility. Their beak sniffed around the air and wafted ever so closer, revealing more and more, one step at a time. First came the blood-splattered leather bill, followed closely by those empty lenses which housed nothing but a dark void underneath. Blades creeped and crawled upon the wall to the boy's dismay, making him jump in place and shove the barrel of his rifle up the leather-clad nose, which bent underneath its weight. "W" watched in amusement as the bird flew back from behind their little safety corner, now missing half their face. Blood splattered, the fiend snorted. Before her lips could repeat the request for a full mag, another beak arose, this time from the girl's side. A claw of five knives scratched against the hard, ancient concrete, just barely missing the girl's shoulder. She, however, welcomed the challenge with arms open wide, to Andy's utter dismay. He sat and watched as her hands curled around the vulture's arm, not shoving it away but pulling close, grabbing the thing tight and throwing the bird's entire robed-self over their little cover-wall. The creature wailed in confusion and fear, their screech cut with an empty thud as they landed on the ground. Without a glint of hesitation, the girl smashed apart the creature's mask with the grip of Andy's dear friend, Nuffer, and gathered the sharp end of the beak. Free from its leather restraints, the vulture's bloodied face painted a picture of pure fear and shock, the face of someone in the hands of death itself. Well, death itself raised her right arm up high and slammed the beak as hard as she could into his eye socket.
"L-Law…" Andy whimpered a little, as his back pressed tight against the wall. The entirety of his body floated away on its own from the massacre happening before his very eyes, as the girl kept on battering, with her lips producing the most unhinged, chilly giggle he's ever heard a human being muster. It was like the frozen wastes of North Kazdel all neatly vacuumed up and packed into one, chortl-y cackle. It filled him with cold, permeated to the very core and ran its frost-covered fingers down his spine. "W" however, did not mind at all. She kept battering, splattering around blood and what could only be described as "eye-substance." At first, snowy-white, now, reddish-orange, spilling from the vulture's face, covering his robes in its paint-like embrace. Satisfied with how the beak penetrated the bird's brain, "W" squashed his skull underneath her boot for good measure. Splat. Red covered the entire area, green covered Andy's face. His stomach felt the need to urgently return today's breakfast back out to serve as nature's fertilizer.
"... Mag, Lawdog. I don't usually ask twice~." The girl wiped some crimson off her lips and flicked her hair to the side, throwing Andy quite the killer glance. Absolutely unhinged, like an animal on the hunt, she glared at him with eyes wide open and a toothy grin tugging her lips up. Too many sharp teeth to even count.
"..." Andy only nodded and hesitantly handed her the slick, lead-tipped gun-fodder. Without a "thank you" or any other sort of acknowledgement, she slid the magazine in and racked the slide. A familiar clink sounded out into the night, mixing with the whooshing bolts and whistling throwing knives, cut the footsteps down a little. "W" latched onto the boy's collar and forcefully sat him up to face the battlefield.
"Need some lead down there, got it? Anything with a mask, I want it dead." She instructed the boy's aim and led his eyes along with her finger. Andy peeked from behind cover and got a glimpse of a few vulture-scavs backing away from their little safe haven in unease.
"... But they're… They look like they're done. Backing off, some."
"Backing off", sheesh you're clueless." The girl threw back with an eyeroll. "They could be begging and groveling on the ground, I'm not letting these worms walk all over me. And you, for now." She added, after a second of consideration.
Andy kept his gaze drilled into the lenses of some birdie, as he kept throwing hand signals to his comrades and slowly gathering the goods of the fallen. Step by step, the company of sorrows prepared to leave, shuffling away from the two gun-maniacs. He'd be more than happy to call it a day and rush wherever to catch up with Hedley and Ines, but it seemed like the girl had other plans.
"So light 'em up. Or I'll bite~." She giggled and stepped out from behind cover. A few faint shimmers cast her shadows all across the ruins, turning one "W" into multiple, all driven by nothing but pure bloodlust and hatred towards these dung-eating garbage takers. Adrenaline had long started to flow, yet at this moment, when the enemies were at their most vulnerable…
… That's when she'd let loose and thrash them all around.
Andy could barely keep up. His scope flickered all over the place, trying to make sense of the sudden explosion of chaos, yet barely could make anything out at all. One moment, he was staring at a group of retreating scavs, another, they were already returning back to the battlefield. One second, they had "W" surrounded and Andy eager to let Vinny rattle, another, all of them were lying on the ground with stomachs ripped wide open, guts and bile spewing down in waterfalls from their fleshy crevices. Gunshots rang, the smell of burnt originium wafted around the air. Sure to attract some attention, even more than they already have. A few loose knives fell short of reaching the boy's head, the throwers immediately pacified by a mix of different sizes of lead projectiles. With each shot came that biting feel of the rifle's stock bumping into his shoulder, tearing his nerves and splitting the bone. His lids were heavy, thoughts a mess, focused purely on the moment this hellish raid would end. On the other hand, "W" seemed to be having a great time. Her movements were swift and strangely precise, despite the fact she was essentially improvising against a group of armed killers. As graceful as she was, the second she felt a drop of blood hit her face, all the flair and elegance would drop in an instant, turning her from a ballet dancer to a wild hound that hasn't eaten in at least a month.
Acting like a maniac, she jumped from target to target, scaring the few watching, staggering them in place; easy pickings for Andy's sharp aim. "W" focused on the dagger-bearing daredevils who had the courage to get within ten meters of her. Dragged one out into the middle, slammed the side of her face against his own, shattered the mask with her horns. Whiplash!
As the birdie wailed in pain, she groaned and let his body drop to the ground.
"Can you shut up? You're ruining this for me."
Her rubber boots stained the back of his robes as she stepped atop him and latched onto his head. Thud-thud. The sound of his face banging against the rubble drowned in the chorus of lead hitting the floor, as Andy pierced yet another caster's skull. Make it ring, make it bleed, make it really sore, she thought. Left the quivering pile of soaking meat for the buzzards, turned to the rest. They all stood in place, terrified. Andy didn't even bother shooting, but got out of cover, rifle raised, nonetheless.
"... That's it. Drop your loot, leave." He ordered the vultures and took a place near "W." As strange as it was, he felt that same, terrifyingly pleasant aura washing off of her, something his W had, something he could really find himself drowning in. It all disappeared in an instant, when "W" perked up in confusion, her antennae shooting high into the air.
"What? No, don't listen to him. All of you, come at me, one or two at a time, we'll-..."
"No? What the hell are you talking about?" Andy shoved her away a little with the stock of his rifle. "W" narrowed her eyes, dumbfounded by his sudden bravery. "Don't listen to her, drop your loot and go."
"No! No, we have them here, we're gonna teach them why worms should stick to eating ground and slithering, not ambushing mercs." She argued, shoving back. Andy retaliated, so "W" elbowed him in the ribs.
"Pffft…" His body bent in half under the weight of her argument. "... O-Okay, just one. Kill one, leave the rest."
"Yeah." W shrugged and turned to the scavs. "You heard 'em. One gets to live, the rest dies by my hand, c'mon."
"No! That's not what I said." He gathered himself back up and shoved the girl again. The group of vultures kept staring, their gazes flickering from their dead comrades scattered all over the floor to the bickering taking place. Some exchanged looks. Some felt a gloomy presence roaming in the shadows.
"Is it? I thought that was exactly what you said." "W" stumbled back a little and took a run-up to bump into the boy with her shoulder. He fell to the ground with a thud, the cold mud soothing his wounds and cuts. "Look at you, clumsy. Such a klutz."
Fuming, the boy gathered himself to his feet and shoved her away yet again. The vulture's heads were flipping from left to right as if they were watching an incredibly engaging game of tennis, but it was just two morons shoving one another. "W" shoved back. Andy shoved forward. "W shoved back. Andy punched her shoulder. "W" slapped him in the face. Andy punched her in the cheek. "W" raised her pistol and shot him in the chest.
The night's veil of silence fell apart, ripped open by the controlled ori-explosion. The angel fell back, eyes filling with a sense of disbelief. And the color red. A lot, lot of red. On the ground, he reached for his gut, feeling a pool of something warm spilling from the tiny, fleshy hole. He could poke his fingers inside, feel around the warm meat that made him be. Like wine from a pierced barrel, the crimson substance kept leaking, staining his sweater and dripping down to the ground. It felt warm. More warm than painful, just warm. As if someone lit a tiny campfire by his stomach, left it there to smolder, used his skin as an ashtray. To the side, a rampage of footsteps arose and disappeared in half a second, leaving the silence be. Gloomy creatures gathered in the dark, watching the ordeal from the shadows. The happy camper stood above him, gun in hand, letting the smoke seep from the end of the barrel right into her nostrils. She sighed.
"... They scattered. See what you did? Gave your pathetic life for some scavs to keep rotting and eating shit. You're a fucking moron." She summed up and crouched by his side. Feeling a mouthful of blood spilling from behind his teeth, Andy coughed out some red and kicked himself away, his legs and feet barely gripping onto the ground.
"Ah-ah-ah, no running." The girl purred and pressed her boot down on his. Nearly damn shattered his ankle, those Goliath genes of hers. Andy whimpered in pain and let his gaze roam in panic across the ruins; no one to call out to, nothing to hold onto. Vinny dropped somewhere out of reach, Nuffer, that backstabbing bastard, remained pointed at his skull. "... You've ruined my mood, you know? Sucks to be you, honestly." With a shrug, she stomped hard on the foot. Andy bit down on his own tongue in an attempt to stop himself from screaming, and his effort to sit up ended just as quickly as it had begun - with a sharp pain twirling around his stomach.
"Tch. Could've let me have my fill, but noooooooooo…"
Another stomp, another wail.
"Just had to come in…"
Another.
"... Come in and just… Preach his Lawful bullshit, was that it? Does your Law say "kiwwing's bad", hmm? Do you, wittwwe angewws, not like it when us devils die? It's fun when you do it, but blasphemy when it's Sarkaz-on-Sarkaz, huh?"
Another. Andy yelped in pain.
"F-Fuuh… Stop, for fuck's sake…"
Nothing. No pain, thank you, Law. Her boot dug deeper into his.
"Nope, sorry. Gotta get my fill one way or another." She murmured and reached to her back. Out, came the dead mercenary's knife, all gray and sad, itching to submerge itself in red. She took a few steps forward, crushing his legs and abdomen. Andy could feel the tiny, lead ball twisting and churning between the folds of flesh, running around that meaty prison like a rat, digging a tiny tunnel for itself to live inside. "... Ruined my grand plan, too. We could've been best buddies, Lawboy." Pressing the knife to his neck, the creature hissed at him. "But now what?"
"..." Now what? He couldn't answer. Couldn't ponder the question or his reality. Couldn't think or move, as the gripping hands of death arose from beneath and latched onto his shoulders. Was it the reaper's soothing hug? Or her knees squeezing his sides? The weight atop his chest, was it the sinking feeling that came with dying? Or was it just her, sitting and aiming her next strike? Figures, gloomy figures approached from both sides, as the contour of "W" dimmed, turning gray and dark. The reek of death and sweat gave way for something different, something sweet and familiar. Freshly baked pastries, apple-scented perfume. The red hallway. They'd lead him there, the two adversaries of death who stood over the girl who straddled him in place. Two harbinger's, Kharon split in half, mere assistants of the reaper itself, willing to lead him away from this mortal plane and down the path to the underworld. He was shunned from the Law's light, anyway, no heaven, no ascension awaited. Just the cold, unending river rushing down a flesh-mound pile. Drop by drop, body by body, it grew mightier than all. Mightier than death itself, mightier than the two helpers that dimmed in his sight. Mightier than the greatsword pressed against the fiend's throat.
"...?"
Andy found himself staring at someone quite familiar. A plate of gray, messy curls spilling in each direction, coated by a thick drizzle of blood. Underneath hid two gray ovals, shyly hiding behind a pair of half-closed eyelids and some rather soft, yet clearly malnourished contours. The entire image seemed a little distorted, bent in half in the middle, as if viewed through a crooked mirror. Only after a moment had he realized he was staring at his own image, reflected in the blade that now covered most of his vision.
"... Off." A low, booming voice ordered. Anyone could tell, it really, really disliked the idea of being opposed in any way, even "W".
"..." The girl swallowed a mouthful of spit. As her throat bulged, it nudged against the edge of the blade, getting a taste of its diligently sharpened might. A true resistance-stomper. "... What if I don't wanna?"
"I'll let you guess." The voice reverberated through the vicinity, sweeping all across the ruins. Andy couldn't quite see his gloomy savior, yet could already tell who it was.
"Mmm. What if I stab first? Got Lawdog here, with a knife to his neck." She bargained, as her eyes trailed along the blade's length.
"Good point." The voice had to hand it to her. A moment and a loud, empty "THUD!" later, the pressing weight slid off Andy's chest and fell to his side. Finally, he could take a deeper breath and let his body remember the pain of being alive, not quite slipping through death's door just yet.
"..." He took a moment.
A breather. A second of silence. A minute of peace. He gazed upon the stars, upon the twin moons twinkling high above. The Law's benevolent will and his very own future. A few red strands of hair invaded his vision. Then, a pair of horns. Then, a fist, wiped after punching "W" right off him. Then, finally, the whole ordeal.
"... Hey, Hedley." He muttered, staring up at the armored mercenary's curious gaze.
"Andy." He greeted back with a nod. Soft and gentle was his voice, sweet and warm, only turning booming and assertive when needed be.
Soon, a few strands of black spilled down from above, tickling the boy's nose and face. As tangled and greasy as they were, they seemed near damn ethereal, like a real angel's spaghetti strands of glowing perfection. A pair of spiky horns and a rather unamused look popped into view.
"You got shot." She stated, quite bluntly. "Just mess after mess with you, angel."
"..." A real ray of sunshine, as always. "... Hi, Ines."
"..." The woman did not answer. Instead, she rolled up the sleeve-flaps adorning her forearms and got straight to work. Without asking, without permission, she lifted the boy's sweater up and formed a little circle with her fingers around the entry wound. "Tch." Her tongue clicked on its own. "What sorta bullet? Big? Small?"
"Nine mil." Andy mumbled back and let his gaze fall towards the dark skies above once more. "... Nothing fancy, just FMJ."
The woman let out a snortle of disdainful amusement. "FMJ. Whatever that means. You angels will get shot, and know exactly what caliber and bullet type it was, won't you?"
A gently rushed exhale escaped the larger merc's nose. Andy saw him exchange a glance with the woman, before he turned towards the girl who now lay by the boy's side, presumably unconscious. "... Not really. She took my gun."
"Of course she did." Ines murmured back, pressing down on his skin. The crimson substance kept flowing, her brows kept furrowing… "You're burning up already. Fever, or whatever. You got any meds, or…?"
"Such a worrywart." The red-haired man commented under his breath, which earned him an elbow to the back. His eye's met the boy's for a moment and the two shared a knowing smirk.
"Shut it. It was your idea to go back, stop projecting." Ines hissed, pressing down a bit too hard and causing a major leak. Andy's eyes grew wide.
"Yet you're the one patching his wounds."
"I can stop and leave. See how much I really care about him."
"... I'm right here." The boy mumbled, as his head suddenly felt a whole lot heavier than it actually was.
"Yeah. And I haven't yet heard a single "Thank you." She spat and ripped off a sizable piece of her sleeve-flap. "Were it up to me, I'd cut our losses and ditch, but your second in command caught some sentimental feels."
"We heard shots and came for your guns, Andy." Hedley corrected her statement. "... Whether you survived or not, it really didn't matter."
"Mm." He murmured. "Really thoughtful of you."
"Still haven't heard a "Thank you, Ines." Hedley resigned with a sigh and nudged the W-shaped girl's head with his finger. She was out, cold.
"Thaaaank you Ineeees." Andy grumbled out, to which the woman replied by tightening the ripped sleeve-flap around his wound, tightly enough to squeeze all his organs together to mush.
"Shush, both of you." She seeped through gritted teeth, letting some of that poison drip into the open wound. Andy winced in pain and turned towards his side, meeting the other merc's gaze.
"... She's the one who shot you, then?" Hedley nudged the girl's head again.
"Mhm. Some feral stray. Caught up to me after you both left and…" Hesitation took over, as the memory of W's winking face still played vividly in his head. "... And I had to go."
"..." Big man pondered in silence. "... This her work?" Andy's gaze was led by the merc's finger towards the bloodbath laid out around the place; the heads turned to mush, lakes of crimson riddling the ground, leather sacks filled with meat scattered all over.
"Yeah. I mean, ours. I did get a few, too, but mostly hers. Promised me to lead the way to you, but…" He paused at the memory of the girl pressing him to a wall with a knife by his throat. "... But I'm not sure what her intentions were. Wanted to meet you, bad."
"Huh." The redhead scratched his chin, rubbing away at the messy stubble. "... How is she? Got rabies?"
"Nope."
"Obedient?"
"Definitely not."
"Experienced?"
"Well, yeah." Andy coughed a bit, drawing blood. Ines sighed and wiped his mouth with her other sleeve-flap. "... Yeah. Seemed to know the game, too."
"Experienced stray, you say…" The man's hand rested over her head, as if checking whether he'd be able to crush her skull with just his fingers. That, or he was simply petting her hair. "... I'll take her back to the rest. We'll see what we're going to do with her."
Having said that, he effortlessly lifted the girl up by her collar and threw the floppy carcass over his massive shoulder. Andy twitched a little, as if offended. "You're not gonna kill her?"
"Hm? No. Not yet."
"But she tried to off me?"
"And yet you're alive. A person is not defined by just one feat, Andy. Besides…" His sharp gaze focused on the boy and sent him a wink, a rarity. "... If I recall correctly, we met during a game of poker, trying to cheat you out of your life's savings."
"..." Andy couldn't argue, yet the foul aftertaste remained. "Well, yeah, but…"
"No "but's". After all, we're just mercs. What do we know?" The man shrugged and turned to leave. As his massive silhouette dimmed and finally disappeared into the darkness, Ines let out a little snarl.
"We know that you know nothing. Meathead." She muttered underneath her breath.
"... He's trying his best." Andy offered his own five shekels, still under the thoughtful hands of his personal, uncaring medic. "Besides, we lost a buncha bodies in that bunker. Only logical for him to get cheap labor, however he can."
"... You sound strangely considerate for someone who took a bullet to the gut. Coping mechanism?"
"What? No, I'm just saying. Especially af-... Ow. Too much." A whimper escaped his lips, as the woman once again tightened the knot a tad too much.
"... Sorry. Like that?"
"Yeah. Much better."
"... Mmm."
"So... As I was saying, it's just... You know, logical. It's logical."
"Logical." She murmured under her breath. "... If that's what you wanna think."
"..."
Silence. She kept working on his wound, Andy kept staring up at the stars. It took a while for the moment to become awkward. The angel coughed a little and spoke.
"... And, um… Thanks. For coming back, and…"
"Don't thank us for that. He wasn't joking, we took a detour just to get the guns back. Patrols all over the place, plus those… Damn vultures." A lump of spit shot from her mouth and crashed against the ground. "Worms. Worse than W, even. Still hasn't shown himself."
"..."
A cold, unfamiliar knot formed beneath his skin, right underneath her sleeve-flap bandage. It grasped his stomach, his intestines and even heart, squeezing tightly, pulling any warmth left from within and forcefully removing it from his body.
"About W…" He started, unsure of how to word it. How to keep it completely emotionless.
"...?" Ines tilted her head, as their eyes met.
A few moments later, it was all settled.
…
"... It's me.
I've reached the target destination. I have visual confirmation of the smoke signal's coordinates.
… It's been a while since our last fight with the other mercenaries. We've taken some losses.
But they hid plenty of supplies in the underground bunker. We won't come empty-handed.
…
Mm, yeah. The scout can go on ahead.
I'll catch up soon.
… Right, there was an unexpected casualty.
W is dead."